Results In: The Judgment Day

The results came in on the net at 7.30. I downloaded the file at the cafe and returned home at about 9.30. Only my younger sister knew the exact date and time, most probably. I walked into the front door and froze for a moment because Dad was on his first whiskey, going by the level in the bottle. It was not Friday, but it was one of those nights for Dad. He may have more than two but, there won't be ice or soda in the fridge, mom would make sure. Dad poured a spoonful of ketchup on his chips and sprinkled black pepper on the salad as if there was no tomorrow. He emptied his tumbler. Chini walked in and stood over the proceedings without fear of repercussion because being the youngest daughter, she had some advantage over us.

"Dad, Mom says dinner is ready," she announced as I slinked into my room. I stood next to the door, trying to catch the conversation. Beyond two drinks or 10.15 pm, dinner would be ice cold, my mother's iron-clad rule. Dad wouldn't go out after drinks or bother to turn on the stove to warm the food. Meaning I would go get something for him. That rarely happened. 

Chinni sat down next to Dad.

"Shanu results came on the net, a few hours back."

"11nth?" Dad asked and took a sip.

"12th. I am in 10th."

"Of course."

"No college in the city will take him under 90% on the mark sheet.

"Hmm."

"No one in the state will touch him for entrance if it's less than 70%."

"Hmm."

" Are you with me Dad?

"What's his score?"

"Dad, you know this, he tells no one. This is not a test match score we are talking about."

"Hmm."

"You should be talking to the nutjob girl he is moving with. Her dad works in RTO. He can get you a driving license without showing up. Changes his car every two years."

"Is that how you want your license? Without a test?"

"No. I am for the test."

"Later. I'll finish dinner soon."

"You'll forget by the time you eat dinner." 

Chini answered her phone and went out to see her friends nearby.

I closed the door and waited behind the wall as the TV volume went up. Finally, my dad walked in and sat down on a chair facing my table, diagonally across the bed. I silenced the game on the phone.

"Chini reminded me. Who knows? But I might forget this conversation or your score in the morning."

Dad has two distinct modus operandi. Immediate marching orders without much regard for the consequences. Or prolonged, studied silence till the moment is ripe for maximum damage to the opponent. I didn't have to wait.

"Do you have the printout or do you see it on-screen these days?"